


The Denial

by vierana



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Denial of Feelings, Forbidden Love, Love/Hate, M/M, Self-Denial
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:33:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24611566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vierana/pseuds/vierana
Summary: ~Mickey’s thoughts & his journey after Terry caught Ian and him.~...He must have been unconscious for only a couple of minutes. When he came back everything felt dizzy. It took him a bit to figure out where he was and what had just happened. Through blurred eyes he recognized the red hair...
Relationships: Ian Gallagher & Mickey Milkovich, Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Kudos: 32





	1. Humiliation

**Author's Note:**

> I kept wondering what happened to Mickey after he got pistol-whipped by his father. Sure, we know the storyline. But I tried to imagine what his thoughts were, comprehend why he hurt Ian the way he did and finally got married, believing Yevgeny was his son. What was going on in the Milkovich household, to make him act like this?
> 
> It’s no fluff or happy story for sure… Still full of emotions and drama.
> 
> Caution: Violent scenes and rough language.  
> Side note: I am no native speaker, so please show mercy ;)

He must have been unconscious for only a couple of minutes. When he came back everything felt dizzy. It took him a bit to figure out where he was and what had just happened. Through blurred eyes he recognized the red hair. He blinked a few times trying to get a clear vision. He tried to focus on his green-blue eyes, tried to lock them, tried to read through them his thoughts. He seemed to be fucking worried, probably scared too. Before he could make sure, the world around him started spinning worse. He closed his eyes again, still laying on the couch, where he got knocked out. Keeping his eyes shot helped him to clear his thoughts. He could feel the blood thickening around his nose. He could also sense blood on his forehead. He got beaten up pretty badly this time and he remembered exactly by whom.

It’s not the first time he had to take blows from his father. Especially when he was a kid. Every time he said or did something that displeased him he got a slap in the face. For example when he got in trouble in elementary and Terry had to get there to talk to the teachers. When he got home he grabbed his shoulders shook him and then slap him so hard he landed on the floor. The funny thing: He didn’t get beaten up because of what he did, for example threatening a class made. No, he got beaten up because he got caught.

_You’re dumb enough for not doing this right? And now I have to clean up your mess. Well this is what you get, you better learn from it._

When he got older it changed to punches into his stomach. This was around junior high. He still wasn’t strong enough to fight back and he remembered that one time when Iggy and he had stolen his weed and a bottle of Vodka. He got so pissed, that both of them ended up with fractures. He was pretty sure he had a cracked rip because he couldn’t walk straight for at least two weeks without a flash of pain shooting through his chest. And Iggy ended up with a broken nose.

So he was used to the violent side of his father. But since he got strong enough to fight back and Terry was the one ending up with a knocked out tooth some years ago, he didn’t had to suffer from his aggressions anymore. 

Until this day. And it was worse than ever. He never saw such an anger burning in his eyes. He was furious. When he jumped on Terries back to stop him from smashing Ian’s face, he knew he had no chance. The anger caused a rush of adrenaline, which he couldn’t battle. The next second he found himself on the couch, his dad above him. He tried to fight him off but there was no way he could have protected himself from these fists of rage. He didn’t intent to give up fighting him, that’s like he got raised but as soon as he tried for the next punch, his father gave him the hardest knock ever by smashing his face with a pistol. He could feel something crack around his cheek before the lights got out, beaten unconscious by his own flash and blood.

And now he felt terrible. His head hurt, he suffered from nausea and he had trouble breathing normally because of the blood running down his throat. But what was even worse was the mental pain. He felt humiliated. He felt shame. Shame, for having such a monster as a father who was able to treat his own family worse than shit but even more ashamed about himself, for ending up in this messed up situation in first place.

“The Russian is here. Open your fucking eyes and get seated.”

He could hear a voice from the distance. He didn’t realize the voice was taking to him until he felt cold metal slamming against his leg.

“The fuck Mickey, you better do as told before your little fag friend here is ending up right next to you on the ground.”

The cold metal was from his father’s Beretta and the pain which shot through the bone of his leg made him come back to reality. He rubbed his eyelids with his palms, before blinking and finding some hold to get into a seating position. His world spun again. He leaned his head back. His eyes met again the ones from the guy he was just about to get fucked by. A guy he kinda started feeling comfortable with. Something he never experienced before. Something that felt good. But now he realized where it led to and he started hating himself for enjoying it.

He turned his head carefully once the door opened. This was not what he expected when Terry said _the Russian is here_. Not that he had much time or concentration to think clear. But as soon as he spotted the skinny women with the cheap haircut, in the short purple dress, he knew what this would be about even before his father spoke out the words.

“She’s going to fuck the faggot out of you, kid.”

He knew his father well enough. He knew what Terry was going to try. The man was convinced it would work that way. Maybe he was right. He tried to focus on the whore when she took place on his lap, shoving his limp dick into her. He scanned her. Way to much make-up but underneath, her face wasn’t actually that bad. Maybe it was because of the concussion or because his subconsciousness talked him into it but he had the feeling, this was somehow the best looking women he ever hooked up with. At least something.

Then he glanced to Ian. Right away he saw that it was hard for him to take. Ian obviously cared much more about him that he damn should. He could barely watch. Tears started to fill his eyes, running down his freckled cheeks, looking at the whore who was fucking him, like he was doing only half an hour ago. That’s when his own rage took over and he started to feel even more miserable. He couldn’t take this anymore; this fucked up emotion of feeling broken. He never indented to turn into this vulnerable wretch he was now. This wasn’t his nature. Usually he was cold and emotionless and it work fine for him. And now look at what he had turned into. He hated himself for being the person he was. For being attracted to guys. He hated himself for letting the thought take over, he could possibly ever be happy with a guy or even get close with a guy. This wasn’t right. Fucking men wasn’t right and he hated himself and Ian to let this thought ever giving a chance to grow, because the result, sitting here in this mess was awful and he had never felt such a humiliation in his entire lifetime. And he never wanted to experience it again, that’s why he needed to make clear this won’t ever happen again. That’s when he grabbed the whores back, flipped her over and down to the couch and started to thrust into her, to fuck the shit out of her and the rage out of him, just like his father wanted. Like he wanted. Burring the chapter of fucking with men once and for all.

He tried to get all of it out of his mind, which wasn’t easy because almost tied to the bed the following days, to recover from the concussion he suffered, he didn’t had much possibility to distract himself. Still, he tried everything to erase the past. Drinking beer or even harder stuff wasn't probably the best idea under these conditions but he didn't really care. Drinking a way the pain, helped a bit. Torturing his guitar with grunge rock songs and shooting on cans with his air pistol helped a little too. Though, whenever he closed his eyes to get some rest, scenes from the past were rushing through his mind. The picture of Ian sitting there with his bleeding nose, or also the picture of the first time they banged in exactly this bed, when he had the best fuck since like forever. But instead of letting it be a good memory, it made his anger rise again. Jesus Christ, why on earth had he do be so messed up. He needed to get out of there, before losing his shit. But whenever he got up to take a piss or to get something to eat or drink, his world still spun and the sickness in his stomach returned. Everyday a bit less but still.


	2. Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruises faded and changed into a yellow trace of history around his eyes and mouth. The wound on his forehead was no covered by a thick crust. When the day arrived he finally felt strong enough to get the fuck out of this god damn house, he grabbed a bottle of cheap bourbon and his own pistol and started walking.

Bruises faded and changed into a yellow trace of history around his eyes and mouth. The wound on his forehead was no covered by a thick crust. When the day arrived he finally felt strong enough to get the fuck out of this god damn house, he grabbed a bottle of cheap bourbon and his own pistol and started walking. He didn't want see anybody. Being among people who were bragging about their happy lives, thinking they were better than him, usually didn't bother him. But now, it wasn't anything he could deal with. Ne needed to blow some steam, get all this negative shit out of his head.   
With every bullet he fired at that helpless doll he found somewhere on the floor of this doomed lost place of former apartment houses, he seemed to come down back to earth a bit more. The concentration he put into focusing, aiming and firing helped to forget all the fucking shit he went through.

At least until he spotted the red head in the corner of his eye. His heart skipped a beat when he took only a short glance at the freckled face, before focusing onto the target again, which was sitting on some construction material. Ian showing up here won’t change anything, this was still over. He was certain, if he would give in and risk a closer look at this damn cute mother fucker, we probably would get week again. And this won’t fucking happen. He wanted to be over with everything of this. He tried not to listen, focusing harder on the doll. But shit, his presents distracted him. He didn’t score. 

“Just wanna make sure you’re ok.”

__ _ Yes I am fucking ok. I will be fucking perfect again, the minute you leave. _

“Hey, I can’t stop thinking about it. What happened.”

__ _ Guess what? I already did. Could you please do the same and just move on? _

“Could you at least look at me?!”

_ No, I fucking can’t look at you, because if I did, I would change my mind in a second, seeing your damn expression of beign worried about me. _

When he left, it only felt a bit like relieve. He was relieved because he didn’t have to fight the urge anymore to turn towards him. He felt relieve that he won the fight over himself, over not resisting. But the superior feeling which was hitting right to his guts was disappointment. Disappointment, that Ian gave up that quickly, that Ian didn’t fight for his attention. He just left. Well wasn’t that what he wanted? It was. And he better stop feeling winy about it, because it was the only way to go.

He put all the concentration back to his gun, letting off through flying bullets all the anger that just built. The anger of still struggling with getting over him.

-

“We need to talk.”

The Russian hooker, he tried to forget as bad as the rest of the story, just pulled open the door to his room. 

“The fuck, I am getting dressed!”

“Trust me, there is nothing I haven’t seen already. By the way, you look much better.” she  said with a strong eastern European accent.

“Thanks for the roses. What the fuck do you want?”

“I am pregnant. Baby is yours. You will take care of it.” Her voice was rough and demanding.

“Not beating around the bush, huh? Jesus I don’t even know your fucking name and you’re  already telling me shit like that. No way! Get the fuck out.”

She stepped closer. “You don’t seem to understand. Maybe your father smacked your stupid head a little to hard.”

She whispered in a threatening tone. “You are father of this child. You are going to take  care or I bash your head even worse in your sleep with hammer. Understand?”

“The fuck. What’s wrong with you? You’re a damn hooker. How many guys do you bang in one  day? Twenty? Why should I believe this fucking thing in there is mine?”

“Simple. Because at my workplace I use condom. Usually customers get hard when they see me.  No way I could get condom over your jellybean dick. But then surprise. You can fuck like man. Now we have problem.”

“Get a fucking abortion. I don’t give a shit.”

“Baby is blessing, no matter what way. So you give shit. I tell exactly what you give. You give me home and we will marry, so I am American citizen and I can get better job.”

“Marrying you? Lady, I guess your head hit to many headboards.”

She stepped closer and stroked with one finger along his cheek and then down his bare chest.

“Your father told me about your little slip-up with orange boy. If we marry, no one will ever think of you as gay man. Your father will be happy and you will keep dignity. Child and I will have home. Win win situation like you American like to say.”

She turned and was about to leave but stopped at the door.

“I do cook and clean and wifely duties. Nothing man would ever do for you. Think about it.”

Then she was gone.

He sank down to the bed.  _ Fuck _ ! No way he would marry that crazy bitch. He just got to the point where he finally had the feeling of being himself again. The guy that didn’t give shit about anyone. And it felt fucking good. Carefree. And now some messed up whore was about to ruin it. Not a chance.

He laid back facing the ceiling. Thoughts started rushing through his mind, he couldn’t turn off anymore. What if… What if this kid is really his? The pure imagination of becoming a father, though it was a child from someone he had no connection with, was overwhelming. Thinking about this little bastard looking like him, caused a tingling in his chest, not knowing if good or bad though. How it would be having someone to take care of, to teach better than his own fucking father did. Besides, that Russian girl was actually pretty beautiful. Today, when she showed up here, dressed and styled like a normal human being, she looked much better. And Jesus, she had guts. Maybe that’s exactly what he needed. Someone who was able to stand up to his reckless behavior. Plus, she had a point, a point he liked most. Nobody would never ever call him gay again, when getting married to... What the fuck was even her name?


	3. Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Days passed by. Nights too. Days were better. He got used to the thought of really going through with this. Of really getting married. Nights were worse. His mind was literally racing on some of them. Laying next to the woman he didn’t cared much, his thoughts unintentionally wandered somewhere else.

Days passed by. Nights too. Days were better. He got used to the thought of really going through with this. Of really getting married. They met a couple of times. Talking, drinking. She drank him under the table. Fuck, how was that even possible? No damn fluffy feelings involved. No love but sympathy grew. They seemed to be on the same page. Life was no fucking fairytale and both of them had to fight with bare fists through it. He liked the warrior side of her and the fact that someone was able to keep up with his loose mouth. He liked that she let him fuck her hard. No pussy sex and quick to be over with, just to get the pressure off. She made no demands. Neither did he. Both lived their lives, besides of ending up in the same bed at the end of the day. Like said, days were better. He simply was able to do his shit, like he was doing before. He could distract himself. Distance himself.

Nights were worse. His mind was literally racing on some of them. Laying next to the woman he didn’t cared much, his thoughts unintentionally wandered somewhere else. He forced his brain not to, but as soon as he seemed to drift away into sleeping, he was there. Ian. Sometimes his face, sometimes only his voice, sometimes his bare skin and sometimes he could even feel him close. Sometimes he just kept dreaming until he woke up at a certain point, feeling this deep emptiness, when realizing he wasn’t the one sleeping next to him, clearly missing it. Sometimes he didn’t even fall asleep. That’s when he woke immediately after drifting away and he felt frustrated of being awake again. Most of the times he got up then, to take a smoke out on porch, staring down the road which was only barley lightened by street lamps. It helped him to cool down. That’s when his mind became clear again and he could talk himself into it. That it was the right thing to do continuing his life without him.

“You knocked her up. You are going to marry her.” Terry’s words. As he would give a shit of him becoming a father. For Terry it was only about not having a fucking faggot as a son. He simply didn’t want to lose the respect among his Nazi friends. Terry even switched bedrooms with him, so he and his, whatever their status of relationship was, could get more privacy. Then there was this particular day, when both of them were sitting around the kitchen table, having dinner. Terry grabbed for something in his pockets. He put it on the table and took his hand away so Mickey could see it.

“You are going to give that to her tomorrow, son. She’s growing impatience. Doesn’t want to have a belly in her wedding dress or whatever.”

The hand revealed a ring. No doubt, it was an engagement ring. He knew the day would come when he had to get through with this. Proposing. But procrastination was his plan so far. There would be plenty of time to set a date, right? Obviously not for Terry and Svetlana. Both wanted to seal the deal as quick as possible. He scoffed.

“What the fuck is it that you don’t like about it, Mickey?”

“You know dad, it’s funny. My entire fucking life you didn’t give one tiny bit of shit about me and my future and now you try to tell me what’s the right do to?”

Terry got onto his feed.

“Do you have a problem with that? Because you obviously lost track of what is the damn right way to go. Instead you let your brain get fucked out by some fag boy running around.”

He got up as well.

“Guess what. Yes, I have a fucking problem with what you are trying to do. You...”

What happened then was unexpected and another awakening call for him. Terry beat his face so hard, that he stumbled over the kitchen chair and landed on the floor. The world around him spun once again when his head hit the tiles and it poured down on him like the heavy rain after a loud thunder. Pictures from that particular day rushed through his head. The day and the reason why he ended up in this situation he was now. The day he felt humiliated.

His father left the room immediately after. He probably couldn’t take it. Seeing his son laying there like the wretch he was. He pushed himself back onto his feet, leaning against the table to find some hold, when his eyes laid on the silver circle. He was so damn sure about it, more than ever. Like he could make sure to erase Ian out of his mind by marrying Svetlana. It just needed to work that way.


	4. Despair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Ian grabbed his shoulder from behind, his heart skipped a beat. Feeling his hands through the fabric, brought back memories. Good memories. But only for this one short second.

He put his dark blue jeans on. The best he had. The black button-shirt and the gel in his hair made him look handsome and decent enough for their engagement party. It was nothing special. Svetlana and he had a couple of drinks at the Alibi, when he finally found enough courage to shove the ring over the table and to raise his brows, which were saying.  _ Let’s do this and get the fuck over with it.  _ She simply smiled and downed a shot of Vodka. No words were necessary. She called his family and some friends to celebrate and both were pretending to be more than just two people who sort of liked each other. 

It only was a facade. And it broke right the day after he woke up. The night was bad. He had one of these dreams again. Ian. And fuck… He was the one proposing to the red head. When he saw the smile on his face, saying the word  _ yes, _ deep satisfaction and relieve settled onto his chest. He woke up from almost crying in relieve. He woke up almost crying of happiness and the nightmare with Terry making him marry some random slut was over. Then reality hit him hard. He took a long shower to clear his thoughts. Not enough. He couldn’t look at his father, his siblings and Svetlana, all sitting around the kitchen table having their morning coffee. Instead he grabbed once again his gun and a new bottle of cheap bourbon and some Vodka too and got back to the abandoned housings. He needed to shoot these thoughts out of his head, once and for all. But when he got there, the metal piece felt heavy in his hands. He couldn’t gain enough force to actually shoot it. He was worn out and nothing else but an emotional wrack. So he sank down on the floor, leaning against the wall and just started drinking. Drowning his sorrows was the easiest way to deal with this mess. He forgot time. It must have been a while him sitting there. Alcohol was sinking in. His thoughts eased. Still he didn’t know whether to laugh or cry in desperation, when thinking about the crap of live he was living. The first bottle was almost gone and he didn’t bother about much anymore.

He barely recognized the steppes which were getting closer. And when he recognized the guy standing in front of him, he wasn’t surprised, or happy, or angry. He didn’t feel the urge to run to him, or to ignore him, or to beat him up. He just felt empty and cold. 

“So is it true? You’re getting married?”

Rumors spread fast. Frank he guessed. Or Mandy? He didn't care. He had enough shit to deal with. Ian’s shit would only make it worse. Somehow he managed to get back onto his feed, walking more or less straight out of the building, was probably best to avoid a confrontation. He didn’t care anymore. He didn’t want to listen to his winy crap. Especially he didn’t want to talk. But of course Ian wouldn’t give up. Wanted to share his feelings. Provoke him with words. Allowing his drowned desperate anger to come back.

“So that’s it, we’re over? Your dad beats the shit out of us and you’re just getting married? No conversation? Nothing?”

Jesus, why the fuck couldn’t he just stop? Leave him alone. It’s not that they were a fucking couple or something. They were banging a couple of times, not less, not more.

When Ian grabbed his shoulder from behind, his heart skipped a beat. Feeling his hands through the fabric, brought back memories. Good memories. But only for this one short second. Then the anger took over again. Anger, because Ian made it so hard for him to close this chapter. He hated him for showing up in his dreams almost every god damn night. He hated him for being here right now. Fighting the urge to do something he didn’t want to do anymore. He still was over with this life.

“Get the fuck off me!”

He felt disgusted. Disgusted of himself for letting Ian get into his ass in first place, for liking getting fucked by him, and for feeling attacked to him.

He could see Ian’s frustration. Frustration and desperation expressing through provocation. Ian was hurt. Clearly hurt by his behavior.

“Oh, you wanna fag bash? That make you feel like a man? Common, go ahead, do it!”

And he did it. Giving him a solid punch into the stomach. Hoping he would finally understand it was over. The liquor let him become cruel, cold and reckless. Something he liked, because it offered him protection.

“You love me and you’re gay.”

The words hit his guts though. He froze. Everything what he tried to deny the last couple of weeks was now back, reveled by Ian. He really had the nerve to bring it up. To dare to imply how he feels. He knew shit about how he felt.

“Just admit it. Just this once.”

This asshole was messing with him, with his life and everything he refused to believe. Implying to know him better than he did. Hitting Ian’s face let him go down. But seeing him hurt like this didn’t bring the hoped satisfaction. Instead he felt sorry. Sorry for fighting the guy who probably was the only person in the word who ever sincerely cared about him. He had to leave before shit escalated. Before the liquor let him do something he would regret.

But Ian didn’t stop to challenge him. Maybe he thought it was the right thing to do to get Mickey to talk to him. The fuck it wasn’t. He made everything worse.

“You feel better now? Feel like a man?”

He was desperate and angry. Wanting him to finally shut up. That’s when it got out of control and he did something he fucking regret the second it happened. He was to drunk to think straight. Blood squirted, when his boot hit Ian’s lip, his mouth, half of his fucking face. All he wanted to do was to leave.

“I feel better now.”

The fuck he did but he had to walk off, setting an end to this, before ending up in killing him. Just realizing he wasn’t any better than his own father…


	5. Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was the night when he couldn’t find sleep at all. Though he wanted, he tried to distract and to deny but it didn’t work this time. He couldn’t get the images out of his head. Especially the one when he kicked Ian’s face with his boot was burned into his mind...  
> That was the night he realized he didn’t want to give this up. Being happy...  
> That was the night he figured out, not much had to change...

This was the night when he couldn’t find sleep at all. Though he wanted, he tried to distract and to deny but it didn’t work this time. He couldn’t get the images out of his head. Especially the one when he kicked Ian’s face with his boot was burned into his mind. He finally gave up falling asleep. So he grabbed a beer from the fridge and his pack of Marlboros and seated himself onto steps of the front porch. It was a rainy and foggy night. Silent. Excellent conditions for figuring this out once and for all. He felt melancholic. His mind couldn’t get the freckled face of his head. And there was no chance in denial anymore. He knew fucking why. The couple of times they were together, it just felt… good. It actually was the first time he had the kind of sex he truly enjoyed. It just felt… right. Like running in uncomfortable shoes for an entire decade and then finally discovering a pair that just fit perfectly. A completely new experience, he didn’t know it existed. A fucking soothing experience he never wanted to miss again.

That was the night he realized he didn’t want to give this up. Being happy, at least for once in a while. The past weeks taught him, he couldn’t erase the feelings from back then, when he finally felt complete, because of the found piece, which was missing his entire lifetime. The fact that Ian happened, made it impossible for him to enjoy and relive the life he knew before him. The life he created after Ian. The illusion of not needing such an intimacy anymore.

That was the night he figured out, not much had to change. Getting married to Svetlana was anyway just a facade. He knew. She knew. Somewhere deep inside his fucked up consciousness Terry knew too. They would pretend to be family. Not more, not less. Actually it was the perfect alibi. Nobody would question anymore that he’d be into anything else than into women. Right?

That was the night he also figured, it would be even easier for him to hook up with Ian. Nobody would get suspicious of them hanging out. Officially just friends. Only Ian and he would know.

A smirk crossed his face, of finally spotting light at the end of a dark tunnel. Suddenly all the anger he felt for Terry, Ian and himself was blown away. A solid plan. It just had to work. He simply needed to make sure, the red head would keep his mouth shut. If it wasn’t way after midnight, he would have jumped up, running over to the Gallagher house now.

But then he figured, it perhaps was best to wait with it after they got through with the marriage. Just to be sure nothing would mess it up. To make sure to be on the safe side.

He also figured that Ian would probably still be pretty mad. Then what? He might have to apologize for acting like the drunken jerk he was. Apologies just were not Milkovich style. It would be better to wait until he cooled down a bit as well. So yes… Waiting until he finally got hitched was best for everyone. It was only two weeks ahead anyways. That’s what he thought.

That was night were he didn’t bother anymore of having stupid dreams about Ian. That was the first night of many following, where he was finally looking forward to sleep again.

The following days were easy. Nights too. He even caught himself whistling along. Something he rarely did. No more anger, no more pain he tried to hide or to shoot away. Getting a suit for his wedding felt easy, doing some further planning for the wedding was easy too. Meeting up with Svetlana’s friends felt easy. Talking to Mandy, Iggy, Colin and even Terry felt easy again, in expectation, of ending up in bed with Ian soon.


	6. Commitment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Then suddenly he was here. Unexpected. Ian...  
> Seeing him broken and desperate like this, fucking hurt... He couldn’t take it anymore just looking at him. He needed his dose.

Then the day finally arrived. His last smoke as a free man. He was nervous, though there was no need for it. It’s not like he loved her. He wouldn’t be devastated in case she said no. He hadn’t anything to lose. He probably just hated that all eyes would be on them. He hated getting all the attention. He couldn’t handle it pretty well, getting jumpy fast. Still it would be only half an hour and they would be through with this shit, before getting to the fun part of the evening. Drinking and celebrating.

Then suddenly he was here. Unexpected. Ian. 

Looking into his green-blue eyes, made him unintentionally speechless. They just scanned each other, before the red head started to offend him once again. With the difference, this time he didn’t bother. He didn’t feel anger or rage. He wanted to sort it out without fists. Clearing the fronts. Making him understand, what this was about.

“Who gives a shit? It’s a fucking piece of paper.”

Mickey didn’t expect at all his fragile answer. There were all these words spoken between the line, telling he sincerely cared about him.

“Not to me.”

Overwhelming. He lost his ability to speak again and simply scoffed. Ian was about to leave. Something he wouldn’t allow this time.

“Hey. Common. Look.”

He turned. Thank god he turned.

“Just because I’m getting hitched, doesn’t mean we can’t still bang. Ok..? Alright?”

Please.

“If you give half a shit about me… Half… Don’t do this.”

_ Fuck, if you would only understand… I wouldn’t if… Shit. _

Seeing him broken and desperate like this, fucking hurt... He couldn’t take it anymore just looking at him. He needed his dose. Feeling him close. Feeling happy.

That was when he made the attempt to finally kiss him. And then it was… just them. Everything else was forgotten. All the shit from the past weeks of missing him, let this become something bigger they ever had. His hands locking his face, the sense of his lips, his tongue, every fucking touch of their bare skin, was pure electricity.

And Ian was committed, damn. Freckles filling him up, made him lose his mind, now even more than before, knowing he almost gave up on it. Ian obviously felt the same. His fucking was deeper and more intense than everything they ever did, like wanting to show him, what he was about to miss. God, how freaking good it felt, finally having the only bang again, he ever truly enjoyed.

Then explaining to him, that he still would get married, before meeting him back here again, didn’t turn out the way he expected. Ian didn’t understand that this was the only way it would work…

“Why are you acting like I got a choice in this?”

Offending his father, when trying to talk him out of this, was not helping to change his mind. There was no other option. Both or nothing. He fucking didn’t want to get pistol-whipped again. He fucking didn’t want to play hide and seek for the rest of his life. No chance he would piss off Terry by screwing up this day. Terry was family, which he couldn’t change. This was the only way to go and they could make it work, so why the hell wouldn’t he understand? Obviously he didn’t know shit about how his family was running business and everybody had to play their parts. Right, as Ian had to live with this fucking angry and violent father his entire lifetime. He had no idea. But what the fuck, he shouldn’t have to explain this. Ian was there when it damn happened right in front of his eyes, even worse, when he got involved too.

He sighed. Calmed down. “Not everybody just gets to blurt out how they fucking feel every minute.”

More talking wouldn’t help to fix his messed up family situation anyway. He left, letting him stand there once Mandy showed up. There was nothing Ian could do to change his mind or his situation. He was about to get over with the whole damn charade. He would deal with Ian’s shit later. 

She looked… Interesting… Like in the fucking eightees weren’t over and the twentyfirst century didn’t reach Russia yet. It made him feel freaking uncomfortable, when she grabbed for his hand in front of all these people staring at them. Though she seemed to be truly excited. Or maybe she was simply a better actress than he was. Who cares? He wasn’t listening much what the pastor was saying. The only sentence which was running over and over through his head:

_ Let this be over quick! _

No doubt. He would get drunk afterwards. Drowning this fucking uncomfortable situation. Thank god there were no vows to read. He simply had to say this stupid fucking cliché sentence and then the two words which didn’t want to roll over his tongue smoothly. He stammered. Maybe because deep inside he knew this was wrong. He knew he wasn’t truly committed.

“I do.” Barely hearable for the audience, so he gathered his courage and repeated it louder.

“I do.”

Svetlana smiled. He felt bad. Which summed up pretty much the entire day, included the whole party afterwards. Still, once the alcohol kicked in, he loosened up a bit to and even had fun in singing and dancing. He spotted Ian drinking at the bar. He would definitely disappear with him later. For now he kept a straight face, playing along, so nobody would get suspicious. When he couldn’t wait any longer to hook up with him, he scanned the area. No red head. He went back to the kitchen, where he was supposed to wait. Northing. He looked around the entire place for him. Ian left. Damn.

He couldn’t blame him. He wasn’t even invited. This wasn’t supposed to be their day anyway. He would give him a call after the weekend, when Svetlana and he would be back from their short, somehow staged, honeymoon trip. He would figure it out then.


	7. Dignity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He thought they were good, he really did. Being married was no big deal. Nothing would have to change between them. It hit him right to his guts. Ian would leave.

It was nice getting away from the trouble at home. The spa hotel Svetlana chose wasn’t his thing though. Of course she enjoyed, getting massages and peelings or whatever fancy shit. He tried to enjoy it by sitting at the hotel bar getting drunk or enjoying a nice meal by calling the room service. This was probably the calm before the storm which was about to arrive. Because the following days at home, his wife commanded him around, made him do all kind of shit in the house.

“Room is a mess, clean up your garbage. And put Nazi shit down. Russians killed Nazis in World War II. I kill you do if you don’t grow up and get rid of this. Read book and then we talk about such crap on wall. No good environment for baby.”

She had balls and he kinda liked it. All the changes left not much room for thoughts about Ian or anything else. Until… He was the one showing up at his house only a couple of days later, letting his world fall apart. 

“Four years. Minimum.” 

He thought they were good, he really did. Being married was no big deal. Nothing would have to change between them. It hit him right to his guts. Ian would leave. Leave him behind. Behind in this shitty marriage. His shitty life. The only sunlight at the end of a dark horizon was him. Knowing they would be able to get together at the end of the day. And now Ian just… gave up on them.

He captured the blue-green eyes. Wanting him to show through expressions what he felt. Though his words were the exact opposite.

“What are hoping, I tell you not to go? ...I am gonna chase after you like some bitch?”

He didn’t want him to leave. But fuck this wasn’t something a Milkovich would ever do. Loosing dignity and admit weakness? He was to proud for it.

When Ian turned around to leave it felt like someone stepped his chest.

“Don’t.”

Fuck he hated how winy his voice sounded. 

“Don’t what?”

“Just…”

_ Why the fuck, are you making it so hard for me? Why do you want me to say it out loud? You fucking know exactly what I mean. Stop acting so damn cold. _

He couldn’t say it. He simply couldn’t bag him to stay, by sounding like a desperate wimp.

Then Ian left. And his own proudness, stood still in his way, not running after him. He fucking hated that he cared so much. He hated to get weak about such emotional shit. His eyes filled with tears. That’s when he started to hate himself again. He sank down onto his bed. He was a fucking crying mess.

He took a deep breath, trying to straighten his voice when he spotted his sister.

“The fuck do you want?”

“Really? That’s all you’re gonna say to him? You’re a fucking pussy!”

The fuck? How did she know? And how did she know that Ian was leaving just because of him? No doubt, she was mad, for not doing anything about it, for letting her best friend go. She exactly knew, he was the only one who could stop Ian from taking this dumb step.

But Mickey didn’t.


	8. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a short epilogue to show some light at the end of the tunnle ;) And thank god... He returned! <3

He tried to keep a straight face, he felt lonelier and more devastated than ever. He fell back into the deep black whole he was caught after Terry beat the shit out of them. He was back laying in bed, drinking, shooting away his pain for days. With the difference, this time it wasn’t about a physical recovery. And with the difference, it wasn’t his choice anymore. There was nothing he could do about it. Nothing but trying to get over it as quick as possible.

Days passed by. Nights passed by. Again. Everyday it got a bit easier not thinking about him. Every night he dreamed a bit less of him. Everything around him, the pregnancy, family business and hanging out with friends at the bar was helping to distract and was helping to get back on track, day by day. Until there were finally days when Ian wouldn’t cross his mind at all. He seemed to be the old one again. Carefree, not giving shit about anyone else. Finally.  
Still, something was different from now on. There always would be this little empty spot deep inside of him, only a small one, but it was making him feel incomplete, telling him something was missing. Something he won’t find anywhere else. Something only Ian could complete.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed reading anyways, though it's a sad one. Please leave kudos if you did, it would mean a lot!


End file.
